I know what you’re thinking. This sounds masochistic and even paradoxical. How can difficult games, where you’re constantly losing, ever teach someone about self-compassion?
Trust me, this wasn’t the method that I had in mind when it came to cultivating self-compassion. But this unexpected journey helped heal my relationship with myself and even reignited my enjoyment of video games.
What caused this need for self-compassion?
Growing up, I suffered from lack of self-compassion and kindness. I was raised in an environment where punishment and harsh criticism were the preferred “motivators” for improvement. Where sayings such as “You’re never going to be as good as [insert name]” were seen as a way of motivating me to be “better”.
And don’t get me started on “disciplinary” beatings.
At some point, I forgot how to relax. Whenever I tried enjoying movies or video games, I was constantly told that I was wasting my time when I could be doing something more productive such as reading a book.
Ultimately, it didn’t take long for me to unknowingly internalize these voices and morphed them to sound like my own. Every time, I’d hear a voice in my head say:
“You don’t deserve to relax”
“Stop wasting your time on this when you should be studying”
“Everyone else is working hard, why aren’t you??”
For years, I suffered from immense self-doubt, anxiety, and harsh self-criticism. I lost my enjoyment of leisure, especially from video games, because I felt this constant guilt for being “unproductive”.
It wasn’t until I started therapy that I became aware of this voice and how it was never my own to begin with, but rather something that infiltrated my mind to sound just like me. With knowledge and guidance, I sought to remove it.
Gaming as an Exercise
I chose gaming as a coping exercise because I needed to learn how to enjoy leisure again. So in order to do so, I gave myself a one-hour-gaming session as a form of permission to relax. One hour of guilt-free leisure.
My first game in this exercise was FromSoftware’s Bloodborne.
For those of you that are familiar with FromSoftware games, I’d bet that you’re probably confused as to why I chose this game out of all games as my game of choice.
And for those of you that aren’t familiar with these games, let me summarize by saying that they’re notorious for being much more difficult than average games. These games created an entire genre of games known as “Souls-like” and birthed the slogan “Git Gud” (to mockingly say “Get Good”).
These games are so difficult that they’ve even sparked debates on whether they should have easier difficulty settings to allow more accessibility to players.
So let’s back to why I chose this game. To be honest, even to this day I still don’t know. I simply remember hearing a lot of praise surrounding it and though I’d give it a try.
And boy did I hate it the first time I played.
For the life of me, I could not get used to the punishing gameplay. No longer could I simply run up to an enemy and hack-and-slash through each level. Each form of recklessness was met with severe punishment such as starting again from the very beginning of the level and losing all my collected resources.
But within time, I developed a love-hate relationship with this game. Numerous times I’d quit and vowed never to return only to turn it back on and push myself to “git gud”.
In time, I did get better. I finally got “gud” and ultimately beat the game. It wasn’t long until I decided to put myself through another crucible with FromSoftware’s Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice.
While I began to enjoy these games, I realized that the games themselves weren’t what I enjoyed the most; rather it was the lessons that I learned from them that helped heal my relationship with myself. Here are some of the things that I’ve learned.
Celebrate the Small Wins
It goes without saying that these games kicked my ass. A lot.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I saw this on my screen:
But over time and with each death, I noticed that I was talking to myself a little differently. Instead of beating myself up over a mistake, I reflected on what I did well.
Damaged the enemy more this round? Great!
Got to the next stage of the fight? You’re getting better!
Died before the final blow? You got the next round!
No longer was I criticizing myself as a form of motivation. I was cheering myself on and celebrating the small wins despite losing.
Every small achievement was a sign that I was improving and one step closer to accomplishing the challenge in front of me.
How to Reflect Without Judgement
That’s not to say I completely ignored my mistakes. Rather, I changed the way I talked to myself about them. Instead of saying:
“You’re such an idiot for being reckless!”
I changed it to:
“Hey, slow it down a bit. Your stamina bar gets low after the third attack. You should attack twice, dodge, and let it recharge before going at it again. You’re doing a great job but be more patient.”
These talks helped me properly reflect on my experiences without the need to criticize. Slowly but surely, this self-critical voice was transforming to something more encouraging.
Instead of beating myself down, I was better able to objectively analyze my actions and present feedback more constructively.
Failure is Part of the Process
Prior to all this, I held a deep fear of failure. If I wasn’t immediately exceptional at something or if conditions weren’t ideal, I would see a project as a wasted endeavor and quit right away.
These games taught me that failure is merely part of the process. While they are punishing, they aren’t without reason.
Died too quickly? Stop rushing.
Low on stamina? Pay more attention to your meter and better manage it.
Can’t parry? Learn when to time it.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve died trying to learn something through trial and error. But that’s really part of the process. I learned that I couldn’t simply learn something without applying it and if I’m too afraid to fail, I would never learn and thus never progress.
From this, I learned that it was okay to fail because to fail means to learn and to learn means to progress.
Becoming My Own Supporter
I also learned that being overly critical of myself was counterproductive. What did I have to gain from telling myself that I wasn’t good enough? What was there to learn from saying I suck?
There’s a reason why stories that have well-supported characters rise above those that are constantly beaten down.
They reminded me of a story that goes:
An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life:
“A fight is going on inside me,” he said to the boy.
“It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil–he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.”
He continued, “The other is good — he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. The same fight is going on inside you–and inside every other person, too.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf will win?”
The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.”
To be my own supporter meant that through success or failure, I was always going to lift myself up. Not scold myself down.
Takeaway
From this experience, I challenged myself to heal. I learned self-compassion through the trials that these games presented to me and I learned that the only way to succeed was through self-compassion. If I was fighting monsters and myself, I’d ultimately succumbed to defeat from fighting two enemies at once.
Not only did I rekindle my enjoyment of video games, but I also changed the voice in my head to be more encouraging. All of which have improved my life immensely outside of gaming.
